


The Other One

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Sort Of, this is a weird one guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 16:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12685389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Shortly after his promotion to Umbrella Boy and long before his own plans begin, Oswald Cobblepot meets his father. Elijah happily invites Oswald and Gertrud into his home, but Grace and her children are less than pleased. In an attempt to learn their plans, Oswald eavesdrops on one of their conversations. In it, he uncovers Grace's dark secret: she has another son, one she both hates and fears, and one whom Elijah knows nothing about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So a long time ago, I had this passing thought about how this could technically work & since Gotham loves a conspiracy theory... I figured I'd write it.   
> I'm still wrestling with my WIPs, but it felt like it had been ages since I had completed something so I whipped this up yesterday. I hope you all enjoy it, despite the weirdness!

“Are you sure we have to let them stay? Isn’t there _any_ way to convince Father?”

 

“Your step-father is a sentimental fool and you know it. We’ll play along, let him have this. What we need to be concerned with is keeping their stay short. And _most_ importantly, keeping her away from him. Whatever it takes. I will not be supplanted by some immigrant slut!”

 

Oswald nearly snapped his switchblade in half. What he wouldn’t give to shove it in that woman’s throat. How dare she, how _dare_ she speak of his mother that way? If it had been any other person in the world, they would have been dead before they could have finished the sentence. He took a deep breath to steady himself, satisfied with his eavesdropping and prepared to sneak away, when Sasha spoke up again.

 

“I’m more worried about the son,” he could hear the grimace in her voice, “the mother has lost any charm she might have once had. You’re _far_ better looking. But her son… there’s something wrong with that uneducated guttersnipe. Something in his eyes. Doesn’t he remind you of the other one?”

 

“Fuck,” Charles whispered, and Grace snapped, “Language! We are above such crassness, Charles.”

 

“But she’s right. I knew there was something familiar about him…”

 

“I thought I told the _both_ of you to never mention the other one again. That part of lives is over, and we never have to think about it again. Not unless that bitch comes for the will. She can’t demand child support, can she? Not when the boy is full grown.”

 

Oswald rolled his eyes at their petty concerns, grit his teeth at the obvious gold-digging, and snuck away to ponder the rest of the conversation in private.

 

_The other one_.

 

The way they had said that, all of them. It wasn’t just a casual reference, it was as if that were the title of whomever they were referring to. A shameful family secret, perhaps? A scandal that could be used to blackmail them? His mother had instilled in him a love of certain classics and his mind strayed to _Jane Eyre_. Did Grace have a mad husband locked away somewhere? But why should Oswald remind his step-siblings of, whom, their father? That seemed… improbable.

 

_A sibling_.

 

Gertrud was a great believer in portents and omens. The certainty and clarity with which the answer came to him brought to mind those moments when she would collapse into her armchair, exclaiming that she had had a vision.

 

Grace had another child. One, Oswald was sure, that his father knew nothing about. What had Elijah said about their past? They had been mistreated and without his help who knew where they’d be. And if there was another child, that meant they must have been left behind.

 

_Oh._

 

From the way they’d been talking, it didn’t sound like an accident. If he confronted them without evidence, they could cover it up. Play it off as him trying to supplant them. And Elijah knew them better. If he found the evidence and then confronted them, they could still play it off as an accident. Say they tried, but were too afraid to go back. He might be disappointed, but he’d forgive them.

 

No.

 

If Oswald wanted to expose their true selves to his father, there was only one infallible way to do it.

 

Oswald needed to find ‘the other one’.

 

~         ~         ~

 

Oswald had begun working for Fish Mooney at the age of seventeen, around the time he realized the long-term investment of education would never be able to support his mother. It had begun as the smallest work. Being already more educated than many in the gangs, Oswald was often assigned to double check the books, looking for inconsistencies that might mean someone was skimming. Sometimes he helped pack getaway vans for the thugs who would be using them. Other times he had to test Ms. Mooney’s food or drink to ensure it wasn’t poisoned. A few years of absolute grunt work later, he was promoted to a secondary errand boy – take bloodstained clothes to Ms. Mooney’s favorite cleaner and pray they would get clean, or wipe the brains off the wall after someone had stepped too far out of line. Now, _finally_ , six years after joining her gang, Oswald was promoted to Umbrella Boy. Not a particularly prestigious position, to be sure, but highly beneficial to the right man. And Oswald knew he was the right man.

 

But he still had years of planning before setting _those_ plans in motion. No, his position would be beneficial to him this very moment for a completely different reason.

 

“You’re asking me for a favor, boy?”

 

“I – I suppose you could say that,” Oswald nodded, laughing nervously.

 

_Present yourself as weak, meek, reverent._

“Your information network is renowned. I don’t want to waste your time, or course, but with such efficient workers I don’t imagine a little peek into the lives of a couple civilians should be taxing on your operation. I hope I’m not overstepping,” he continued.

 

_Compliment, create a divide with yourself on the bottom and them on the top. Reassure them you haven’t ‘gotten any ideas’._

“And why do you want to know about these people?” Fish asked, tapping one long fingernail idly against what could only be called a goblet.

 

“Let’s call it ‘personal revenge’,” Oswald answered, “They have done me a wrong, and in turn I may have uncovered something that I could use as blackmail, or more. But I need concrete proof of my theory and I cannot get that unless I know where they used to live and with whom they used to live. Again, Ms. Mooney, my apologies if this is asking too much…”

 

“Not at all, my dear,” she shook her head, gaze steady, “But why not ask me to simply… get rid of them for you? I’d be happy to do that, you know.”

 

“I do know, and I am eternally grateful. I just – the wrongs they have done to me are so personal, I want the revenge to be just as personal. And… they have deceived someone whose good opinion I value. I would rather expose them than be rid of them only to have their memories honored.”

 

Fish nodded slowly, “I believe you, boy. Very astute,” she rearranged herself on the chair, lifting the goblet, “You shall have your answers,” she waved her hands at another man, “You – go find the least busy of my people working intelligence. Tell them to find the past identities of – who was this, again?”

 

“Grace, Sasha, and Charles Van Dahl. A mother and her children. Their surname… does not belong to them. They all acquired it through Grace’s marriage.”

 

“Yes, tell them to look into these people. Find out everything you can about their lives before this marriage, specifically the father of the children and if there were any other children. And locate them.”

 

“Yes, Ms. Mooney,” the man nodded and exited the building promptly.

 

“There,” she said, turning back to Oswald, “You should have your answers before the week is out. Now why don’t you rub the ache out of these tired feet and we’ll call it even. It’s not equivalent, but I like you. You’re the best damn umbrella boy I’ve ever had.”

 

“Thank you, Ms. Mooney. For everything.”

 

“It was no trouble, boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

So where do you go all the time, anyway?” Sasha asked bluntly as she watched him removing his coat, “You can’t possibly have a _job_. You don’t even have a high school diploma.”

 

“I think, you’ll find, I do,” Oswald replied tersely.

 

“You didn’t answer her question,” Charles interrupted imperiously, “Don’t be rude.”

 

“My apologies,” he bowed mockingly, “For your information, I _do_ have a job.”

 

“Oh yeah? Doing what?”

 

“I’m afraid it’s classified.”

 

Charles snorted, “So you mean you like to sneak out on your mom to go bang whores, since she won’t allow them in your apartment.”

 

Oswald halted, blinking in genuine confusion. He scrunched up his nose and looked between Charles’ ugly sneer to Sasha’s haughty one and asked, “Why does everyone keep thinking that? I mean, first of all, _that’s_ a rude thing to say. Most people in that line of work are doing it to, you know, survive. But I suppose delicate little aristocrats like yourselves wouldn’t know about all that. And second of all, if that’s what you think I spend my time doing, have you even really _looked_ at me?”

 

“Oh, you’re right, how stupid of me,” Charles said, “You’re obviously a virgin.”

 

“ _Again_ with the conforming to society’s priorities! And sure, if that’s how you want to take what I said, go for it,” he rolled his eyes and shouldered past them up the stairs, assuming – or rather hoping – they wouldn’t follow.

 

The hope was, of course, in vain.

 

“So if it is just a job, you wouldn’t mind bringing one of us with you some time?” Charles asked, two steps behind him.

 

“What part of ‘classified’ do you not understand?”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Charles said in an exaggerated whisper, “Is this one of those ‘if you tell me you have to kill me’ deals?”

 

Oswald snorted, “I wouldn’t be the one killing you, no.”

 

“So who _do_ you work for?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

“We’re just _worried,_ you see,” Sasha added, “Father’s heart condition makes surprises _so_ dangerous for him. We’re honestly a bit concerned about what your mother being here is doing to him. He’d been getting so much better, but she’s going to bring back the memories of a time that can never be brought back. The stress could be harmful.”

 

“Exactly,” Charles nodded, “And if you’re getting up to something scandalous, we just want to make sure it stays far away from him. I’ve no idea what would become of us if something were to happen to him…”

 

“You’d inherit a fortune,” Oswald replied curtly, “Odd, how an ‘uneducated guttersnipe’ is more familiar with the legal system than two such fine specimens as yourselves.”

 

He almost bit his lip as he realized he had quoted from something they had said in confidence. He glanced quickly between them, looking for signs of recognition, but none came. The only things present in their faces were frustration and disdain. Good.

 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day at work and I’d like to take a bath. So if you don’t mind…”

 

“It doesn’t end here,” Sasha informed him as they began to walk away.

 

“Oh it most certainly does not,” Oswald cackled after the door to his room had firmly shut. He only had to wait a few more days.

 

~         ~         ~

 

“You’re sure? You’re positive this is the place?”

 

“Yep. This ‘Grace’ character lived here for fifteen years. She took her younger two children, then aged eleven and twelve, with her, leaving the eldest, then fourteen, behind with her ex. Records indicate the older son to be mentally unstable, and the father to be violent. The son disappeared a little under two years ago, but the father still lives here.”

 

Oswald physically growled in frustration, “I don’t _need_ the father. I want to find the other son!”

 

“Not a problem. Multiple college applications were attached to this address, all bearing the older son’s first name, but with a different surname.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It wasn’t hard to track him down after that. Idiot changed his name from something common to something conspicuous. Almost like he wanted to be found.”

 

“Interesting,” Oswald said idly, “Something to do with his mental deficiencies?”

 

“Well, that’s the other odd thing.”

 

“What is?”

 

“So the records all list him as nearly incapable of taking care of himself: issues with communication, extremely late development of gross motor skills, early signs of delinquency, anger issues, compulsive lying – the way the papers tell it, he could hardly feed and clothe himself.”

 

“And?”

 

“And he blew the university qualifications out of the water. This kid had scores good enough to get into any medical or law school in the country.”

 

“So either he was good enough to convincingly fudge the applications, requiring him to at the very least successfully hack a government database of test scores _and_ create a false identity for himself, or the medical records are the fakes.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“And one of those sounds much more plausible…” This really was some twisted version of _Jane Eyre_ , wasn’t it? Because there was no way Grace could be _ignorant_ of this. No, she would have had to be _involved_. She helped or even suggested those false documents, for whatever reason.

 

_“…there’s something wrong with that uneducated guttersnipe. Something in his eyes. Doesn’t he remind you of the other one?”_

Sasha had sounded… afraid.

 

And that was something else to consider: Sasha and Charles were complicit, as well. They willingly abandoned their brother to the ‘monster’ of the sob story they’d told Elijah. Just because they feared him?

 

No, Oswald realized. He reminded them of _him_. Oswald. The Penguin. Everyone’s least favorite freak. And Oswald was smart enough to know that those around him _did_ fear him. Not as much as they feared Fish Mooney, or Don Falcone, or even Don Maroni. But that was because they had power and he didn’t. No, people feared Oswald because, every once in a while, they glimpsed the sadist within. Every once in a while, Oswald was given the opportunity to ‘let off some steam’, and he saw the wary expressions on the faces of the thugs around him when he did so. So, people feared Oswald. But that didn’t stop them from reviling him. He was mocked, spat upon, and beaten at every chance. Because one hates what one fears.

 

Oswald was suddenly _very_ interested in meeting his step-siblings’ brother. What tales would he have of the little snots who were currently ruining Oswald’s days? What horrors could he speak to offend even the ever-forgiving Elijah? Oswald harbored no doubts as to the cruelty of his step family, and he was ready to obtain the evidence.

 

“Take me to the older son.”

 

“You got it, Penguin.”

 

Oswald grit his teeth against the nickname, wanting to remind his colleague that it was _not_ appreciated, but unwilling to risk his revenge.

 

“Oh, I should have asked: what’s his name?”

 

“Edward. Edward Nygma, formerly Nashton, son of Joseph Nashton and Grace Van Dahl, also formerly Nashton.”


	3. Chapter 3

Gotham U was, one might say, the grandest example of Gotham’s signature depressing-yet-regal architecture. Towering brick buildings with countless pieces chipped off over the years, courtyards just large enough to always feel empty, imperious doors and windows reminding the students of their place – and their debt. All of this greeted Oswald as he was dropped off by Fish’s agent to meet Edward Nygma, _the other one_.

 

He glanced down at the file he had read through on the drive over. Exceptionally high grades, most well-known for improving a technique so that it went from 70% accurate to 95% accurate. Studying Forensic Science with an accelerated masters, full ride scholarship. Impressive. He studied the photocopy of Edward’s student ID again, committing the face to memory so he would know him when he saw him. He supposed he could even see a bit of resemblance. His nose was similar to Grace’s, and he shared the full lips she was so proud of. Oswald snorted. They looked far better on Edward, anyway.

 

Soon enough he located the building listed as Edward’s residence hall, and as it was the middle of the day, he had no issues getting inside. From there, he made his way up three flights of stairs and down a short hallway until he reached 0347, the dorm number in the file. He raised one gloved fist and knocked sharply, four times.

 

He heard shuffling from inside before the door opened to reveal an unfamiliar face.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Edward Nygma? I was told he lived here.”

 

“Ed?” the man blinked, glancing behind him, “Yeah, he lives here. He’s usually out studying in some secluded part of the library this time of day. Who are you?”

 

“A friend,” Oswald said lightly. The man snorted, “Really? Didn’t know he had a friend.”

 

“And you are...?” Oswald asked, growing confused.

 

“His roommate. I thought I was the closest thing he had to a friend.”

 

“But you’re not?”

 

“Not likely. Guy’s a total weirdo. Mostly harmless stuff, but when he gets going on dead bodies… freaks me the fuck out.”

 

“I see. So I should try the library?”

 

“Yeah. Probably the second floor, in a corner. He doesn’t much like people, and they don’t much like him.”

 

“Thank you,” Oswald excused himself, “for your assistance.”

 

“No problem, dude.”

 

Oswald glared at the stairs on the way down, having had to climb them for nothing. After more physical exertion on his part, he found himself on the second floor of the library. He was a bit impressed by the collection, despite the overabundance of dust particles he could _feel_ himself breathing. Wandering up and down the rows, it took him approximately a quarter of an hour to find the man from the file.

 

The first thing Oswald noticed about Edward was that he was _tall_. Sure, from the files Oswald _knew_ Edward was half a foot taller than himself, but in person, that height combined with his thin frame made him seem even _longer_. And that was without seeing him standing. Currently, his ridiculously long limbs were tucked around him in what _had_ to be an uncomfortable position as he curled around a book that looked like it weighed half as much as the man holding it. A pair of rectangular spectacles, slightly too large to be fashionable, were slipping down the man’s nose. As Oswald watched, he pushed them up irritably before flipping a page.

 

But besides being _tall_ , Oswald noticed something else about Edward. It was hard to put his finger on the vaguely ticklish sensation, but then he remembered the way his mother always spoke about ‘gentlemen’, as she called them – soft and warm. _That_ was the feeling Oswald got when he looked at Edward. He supposed it must be what other people called ‘attraction’. Fascinating. He hadn’t known he could feel that. Yet, something in the way Edward’s too-long brown hair flopped across his forehead while he kept running his finger through it, something in the way he bit his lip and scrunched up his eyebrows as he read, something about the way he mouthed a sentence and chuckled quietly as if sharing a private joke with the author, something about the way his eyes were somehow both dark _and_ warm… it opened his eyes to a world of thoughts and desires that he had always assumed others were exaggerating.

 

Well, he paused, he still thought that. Just because he suddenly realized that others could be _physically_ attractive didn’t make him _crave_ anything the way everyone else was always talking. It was confusing…

 

But it wasn’t important. What was important was getting Edward on his side so they could take down Grace and her _other_ children.

 

Steeling himself against whatever Edward’s reaction might be, Oswald marched up to him, stopping four feet away. Before he had time to cough and announce himself, Edward looked up.

 

_Wow_ were those eyes intense to meet. He felt like Edward was trying to pry the flesh off his body and see straight to the soul within.

 

And then he adjusted to look past the intense stare himself and he saw a crease of fear, well-hidden but still present, scrawled across his face.

 

“Yes?” he asked. That voice didn’t match. It was much more obviously scared, innocent and meek. The passion and intelligence behind his eyes was shuttered out by this smaller, weaker man. Oswald felt a stirring that his mother would have called his soul, crying out at the injustice that a man with so much potential would be too afraid to use it. He felt a burst of hatred towards Grace that didn’t stem from his own selfish desires, followed by surprise. Why should he care so much?

 

But now was not the time to examine his psyche. Now was the time to answer Edward’s question.

 

“Excuse me,” Oswald said politely, “but are you Edward Nygma?”

 

The fear deepened another layer and Edward nodded, “I – I am.”

 

“Good,” he held out a hand and Edward scrambled to his feet before shaking it. Oswald was right, the man’s presence felt tiny, yet his stature was impressive. He almost felt bad for how obviously Edward was trying to make himself smaller.

 

“Can – Can I help you?” Edward tripped over his words once again.

 

“Yes,” Oswald replied, “My name is Oswald Cobblepot. I have been looking for you.”

 

And just like that, Edward bolted. He fled so quickly it took Oswald a moment to process what had happened before he was tearing after him.

 

“Wait!” he called out, glowering at the librarian who had the gall to ‘shush’ him. He flung open the door Edward had just exited through, following him down the stairs as he yelled down at the top of his head, “I have no malicious intentions towards you, I swear.”

 

Whether Edward believed him or not was not to be seen, as before he had the opportunity to stop or continue, he missed a step and went down, catching himself hard on the palms of his hands. Oswald winced at the thud of flesh and bone hitting a solid surface, all too familiar with that sort of pain.

 

He pulled up short at Edward’s side, crouching beside him and asking, “Are you alright?”

 

Edward shuffled backwards, crying out softly as he put pressure on his hands to do so but biting his lip hard to muffle the sound.

 

“Edward?” he held up his hands, “I mean no harm, I promise.”

 

Slowly Edward released his lower lip from his teeth and began to rub at his palms. Slowly he said, “I can only think of one man who would be looking for me. You can tell him, I’m not coming back. Not ever,” he glanced down at his hands, eyes widening, “Oh god, he knows where I am. I have to leave. I need a new name. I need to – “

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Oswald twitched his hands to remind Edward they were up, “Your father didn’t send me.”

 

Edward’s gaze shot up to meet his, “Then how did you know?”

 

“How did I know what?”

 

“That I was talking about my… about _him_?”

 

“We may have some mutual acquaintances.”

 

Edward frowned, “What do you mean?”

 

“I recently reconnected with my own father,” he offered, “A much kinder man, I’m sure. Only, his wife and step-children… not so much. I think you know Grace, Sasha, and Charles?”

 

He froze up again, body recoiled from Oswald, “Why would they be looking for me? They hated me, couldn’t wait to be rid of me! They left me there with him, left me as a scapegoat!”

 

Oswald watched in fascination as Edward transformed into a darker, colder man. How thrilling. The fearful, naïve energy that had surrounded him only moments ago was now eclipsed by a cruel hatred, a sadism familiar to Oswald. Less controlled than his, certainly, but no less volatile.

 

“She left a note. Did you know that? She left a note, addressed to _me_ , on the table for my father to find.”

 

“What?” Oswald furrowed his brow.

 

“She didn’t want to risk him coming after them, so she offered me up as a distraction. She left a _thank you note_ , detailing all the ways I’d helped them leave and how grateful they were for my assistance. How only I would ever be able to find them again. And she left it _right_ where he would find it. I was asleep the entire time. But he didn’t believe me. I promise I was asleep, I’m sure I was!” and just like that the sadism bled out, replaced by a lost little boy begging for a light in the darkness. Oswald cringed internally – Edward doubted his own memories. He could clearly see that he was half convinced he really had helped his relatives escape.

 

“I didn’t know that,” Oswald spoke slowly, deliberately soft, the way a tamer might speak to a dangerous wild animal. At least one part of Edward had deteriorated down to his instincts. Oswald could see that plain as day, and it made him dangerous. It made him likely to lash out unless treated with the utmost care. He was going to have to tread carefully if he wanted to convince Edward to condemn Grace and the others.

 

“You’re right, though. They aren’t looking for you. I am.”

 

“You? But… why?”

 

“I heard them mention you,” he answered honestly, “I was curious. And… I was hoping you could help me.”

 

“Help? Help you?”

 

“Yes. You see, I want them out of my life. But there’s no way to do that that won’t also upset my father. Not unless I can defame them. And you’re the key to that. Don’t you want revenge, Edward? Doesn’t it just boil your blood that they did such things to you? Don’t you want them to receive a piece of what they gave? I can help you. Hell, I can help you destroy your father, too, if you like. I have connections.”

 

“You mean… you’re a criminal?” Edward asked carefully.

 

“Yes,” Oswald answered plainly, the corner of his lip curling up in a smirk at Edward’s bewildered expression.

 

“You – you do know I’m studying forensic science, right? You know, to – to work for the cops? To catch criminals?”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Oswald nodded, still smiling, “I’m aware.”

 

“And you’re confessing to me?”

 

“Something tells me I can convince you not to turn me in.”

 

“I –“ Edward paused, “Oh.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I – I suppose you’re right,” he looked mildly shocked at the revelation.

 

“I know I’m right. Just give me a chance to show you your potential – to help you obtain the revenge I can _see_ you crave. And maybe you’ll have a change of heart somewhere along the way.”

 

“A change of heart?”

 

“Haven’t you ever secretly wanted to be… bad? I’ve seen your scores. You’re brilliant. Haven’t you ever wondered if you could just… get away with it? Take a risk,” he spoke softly but firmly now, coaxing Edward to his side, “I can see all that pent-up rage inside you, Edward. The world has wronged you again and again. They all think they can walk right over you without any consequences, beat you down if you try to stand too tall or speak too loud. But you’re smart. Smart and underestimated. That’s a powerful combination. Come on, give it a shot. I have a plan – well, the bones of one. You want to leave your mark on the world? You want people to appreciate you?”

 

“Yes,” Edward nodded vehemently.

 

“Well trust me – the GCPD is not the place to do that. There aren’t two brain cells between them, the cops, I mean. They’re idiots, all of them. They wouldn’t have the brains to appreciate your talents.”

 

“But you… could?”

 

“Exactly. Why do you have to prove yourself on the ‘right’ side of the law? What makes it right anyway? Have these laws ever helped you? Did they protect you?”

 

Edward shook his head slowly, eyes wide.

 

“So what good are they?”

 

“I – I – “ Edward glanced around as if he were about to do something terrible, “I am an illness afflicting both flesh and stone. If you have me, out you will be thrown. The exception to this rule, is the sentimental fool. What am I?”

 

Oswald blinked, “Is – Was that – Was that a riddle?”

 

Edward nodded, posture much more open as they sat side by side on the steps now, relaxing as he entered his element, “I love riddles, don’t you? Puzzles of all sorts. People are just puzzles. Everything is, in a way.”

 

“I see.”

 

“So do you know the answer?”

 

Oswald frowned, tempted to brush it off, but…

 

But he needed Edward for his plan. If solving a riddle was what it took, then so be it.

 

“A sentimental fool is the exception…” he muttered, “The sentimental fool wouldn’t throw out the sick person. Wait. Flesh. Stone. So… not a person? Or sometimes a person. And sometimes not a person. Let’s go with thing. Only a sentimental fool wouldn’t throw out a thing when it is afflicted with...”

 

What did people throw out?

 

Garbage.

 

When did something become garbage? When was something discarded.

 

When it broke.

 

When it was useless.

 

“Uselessness?”

 

Edward’s entire body seemed to light up and he clapped his hands together, “Exactly! You’re right. What good are the laws doing? We respect the law in order to be protected by them, but they haven’t protected me, so why should I respect them? I’m not a fool, so I can throw them out.”

 

He stuck out his hand again, “So, Oswald – can I call you Oswald? – you’ve convinced me to give it a shot. What’s the plan?”


	4. Chapter 4

One of the first things Oswald had ever learned from Fish Mooney was how to make an entrance. So instead of taking Edward straight back to the manor, he took him out for tea and sandwiches. The timing of his return had to be perfect, and if it meant getting to spend more time with the intriguing beauty currently sitting across from him, all the better.

 

“I take it you would prefer to keep your identity as concealed as possible,” Oswald said after they’d ordered.

 

“If I can, yes,” Edward nodded.

 

“In that case, we will have to confront them personally. Will that be an issue?”

 

Edward’s fingers twitched around his mug, “I – I’m not sure.”

 

“That’s alright,” Oswald allowed, “The only other thing I could think of is trying to sue her for neglect or worse, but that would drag you into the public eye. I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

 

If Edward’s full body shudder was anything to go by, he didn’t think so either.

 

“The sooner the better,” Oswald continued, “I would be beside you the entire time. Remember, I _have_ killed before, and I can do it again if I must. I would prefer not to, but…”

 

“Are you threatening me?” Edward asked far too innocently for that sort of question.

 

Oswald gave an involuntary laugh, “Heavens no, Edward. I’m offering you my protection. I’d rather get the ball rolling tonight, so if you’re scared, I wanted to offer you some reassurance.”

 

“Oh,” Edward blinked, taking a sip of his tea, “Thank you, then. And please, call me Ed.”

 

“Ed?”

 

“They never called me Ed,” he said softly, so quiet Oswald almost couldn’t hear, staring into the depths of his mug, “Mostly ‘boy’ or ‘freak’ or – or – but never ‘Ed’.”

 

“Alright then, Ed,” Oswald replied amiably.

 

“Am I a freak?” he asked suddenly, abruptly.

 

Oswald stared at him, “What do you mean?”

 

“I – I don’t even know you. You just admitted to me that you’re a killer, and here I am eating lunch with you, telling you my darkest secrets. And not just that, I’ve agreed to help you break the law! Normal people wouldn’t do that. I’m not normal.”

 

Oswald shrugged, “I’m not normal. Normal is boring. Weak. Normal people don’t control things. They don’t get to call the shots.”

 

“And you do?” Edward asked, eyes wide.

 

“No,” Oswald pursed his lips, his own eyes burning with determination, “Not yet. But I will. Just you wait.”

 

Edward was hanging on his every word, wholly enthralled, “I believe you.”

 

And for some reason that made Oswald’s insides feel all fuzzy, his head giddy, as if Edward’s faith in him meant the entire world.

 

How odd.

 

Before he could analyze these thoughts deeper, their sandwiches arrived. Oswald paid immediately, wanting as much privacy as could be afforded in a café.

 

“So,” Edward leaned across the table, grinning as he rested his chin on his hands, “You seem to know everything about me, but I barely know more than your name. I’m sure there’s plenty of secrets in crime, but tell me something about yourself. Please?”

 

_Please?_

 

It rang in his mind. Who asked politely anymore? Who was Edward Nygma? And it caught him off guard enough that he spoke the truth before he could hold it back.

 

“I’ve never had anyone besides my mother before,” he began, “We never had much. That’s why I joined the gangs. She deserved the best I could give her, after everything she’s done for me. She made me who I am. I can never thank her enough. And then everything changed. There was a circus in town, and my mother wanted to see the fortune teller. She believes in that sort of thing, you know. And when she went into the tent, she ran straight into my father. They couldn’t believe it was the other. Something about his parents paying her to disappear. He didn’t even know I existed. But he was so kind about it. I think he may even still love her. But he’s married to Grace, and he cares about her, too. He has no idea what kind of a gold-digging scum he let into his life, and he’s so _trusting_. Everything is chaos. Not to mention, he’s _rich_. I had all these long term plans, _perfect_ plans, and this should be an asset, but now I’m going to have to reorganize them _all_.”

 

Edward nodded along intently, “You’ll succeed.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because you’ve convinced me to face one of my deepest fears in the span of one afternoon. And a man who can do that can bring this city to its knees in no time. And…” he trailed off.

 

“And what?”

 

“And, I thought, maybe… no, never mind, it’s dumb.”

 

“No, tell me. What is it?”

 

“I thought that, maybe, if this whole plot worked out… maybe you’d let me help you?”

 

Oswald froze. Much of what he’d said had been aimed at convincing Edward to help him _now_ , nothing more. But it wasn’t that bad of an idea, come to think of it…

 

“I – I suppose I could see that. We’ll see how well you do tonight, and then we can discuss a – a partnership.”

 

“A partnership,” Edward repeated, rolling the phrase around his tongue like a caramel, “I like the sound of that.”

 

“So do I,” Oswald said, and to his great surprise, he meant it.

 

~         ~         ~

 

There was only the faintest hint of sunset dimming the sky when the taxi pulled up in front of the mansion. Edward swallowed hard, eyes tracing the entirety of the estate before coming back to rest on Oswald.

 

“You’re sure about this?”

 

“Yes. Just stay silent and wait for my cue. Let me do the talking, unless someone asks you a direct question. And if it makes you feel better, you can stand beside me or even behind me. They won’t touch you, Ed. You have my word.”

 

Their eyes never broke contact as he spoke, and Oswald felt a depth to the vow that unsettled him slightly. He would be genuinely distressed if he broke his promise now.

 

“Thank you,” Edward swallowed again and then nodded, “I’m ready.”

 

“Alright. You know the cue?”

 

“Of course,” Edward’s voice took on that sharper, darker edge, “I remember everything.”

 

“Of course,” Oswald repeated his words to him, consoling the anger that he needed to conserve.

 

He reached the door, opening it with the key his father had given him barely a week prior. He gestured Edward to follow him inside, taking his coat and hanging it up for him more out of habit than anything else. They walked towards the dining room where the sounds of cutlery clinking against plates and soft chatter could be heard. Oswald pointed to the location Edward could hide in where he would be able to hear the conversation clearly and prepare for his big entrance.

 

Oswald smoothed down his suit, prepping for his own entrance.

 

As if on cue herself, Grace spoke up from the other room, “Gertrud, wherever could your son be? Shouldn’t he be here for dinner?”

 

Before Gertrud could respond, likely with something scathing, as her dislike of Grace matched Oswald’s, the man himself entered the room.

 

All faces turned to look at him as he put on his biggest smile, “My apologies, Mother, Father,” he nodded to them both, “I hope you weren’t worried. I had some… research to do.”

 

“Research?” Grace asked with too much interest, “I didn’t realize you were a scholar. What were you researching, dear?”

 

Oswald flexed his fingers, restraining his violent reaction to her simpering voice.

 

“Ladies of the night, I’ll bet,” Charles snickered.

 

“Charles!” Elijah exclaimed, shocked.

 

“What? We all know it’s where he – “

 

“Actually,” Oswald interrupted with a drawl, “The subject of my studies was _you_.”

 

“Charles?” Grace asked, confusion and the slightest trace of fear coloring her voice.

 

“Well, the three of you.”

 

“You were _researching_ us?!” Sasha gasped, false betrayal written across her face, “Father! I told you we shouldn’t let him in! He’s – he’s _stalking_ us! He’s probably after us for your inheritance!”

 

“Sasha!” Grace hissed.

 

_That’s right, Sasha. Don’t overplay it, now_.

 

“In truth, I hadn’t even considered that,” Oswald faked ignorance well, “The reason I was suspicious of you was something I overheard the first day I stayed here. I was going to ask what the policy on snacking was, when I stumbled upon a little conference between my three non-blood relatives,” he turned to his father, “You would not believe the things I heard, and as it would just be my word against theirs, I won’t trouble you by repeating it.”

 

“Then why bring this up?” Elijah asked.

 

“Exactly!” Grace said, “What is your purpose, if not to upset my love?”

 

“While I was conducting my research, I stumbled upon the most troubling part of your past. You have a dark past, Grace. Your children, as well. I wonder what my dear father would say if he knew about the man you left behind?”

 

A tense silence fell over the table. Only the ticking of the clock on the mantel could be heard, counting out sixteen long seconds before Grace burst out laughing.

 

“Elijah knows all about my ex! He saved us from him, of course he knows about him!”

 

Sasha and Charles were sniggering into their hands as Grace continued to laugh, nearly cackling as she watched Oswald’s eyes widen and his eyebrows raise.

 

“So much for you little pl – “

 

“I’m sorry,” Oswald cut her off, “but it’s not your ex I was referring to.”

 

Her smile froze on her face, and in the second silence, everyone around the table could hear the footsteps approaching. Oswald didn’t turn around as he felt a presence behind him and a voice said, “He was referring to me.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m sorry?” Grace blinked, false cheer forced into her voice and smile, “And you are?”

 

“You know who I am,” Edward answered, a chill practically emanating from him.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

 

“Perhaps this will jog your memory,” Edward spat, striding three paces past Oswald towards the table and pushing up his left sleeve to reveal a speckled pattern of nasty burns, “If nothing else, you’ll remember how I ruined your precious waffle iron. God, I can still here you screaming about it now: ‘Not my favorite appliance, you bastard’. Is that why you left him? He couldn’t have used something you didn’t care about, like, oh, I don’t know, the toaster? But I apologize, I really do. I never meant to make you think of the smell of burnt flesh every time you look at waffles. I can’t believe I did something like that to you. How horrible it must be.”

 

“Oswald?” Elijah asked, “Who is this man?”

 

“This,” Oswald stepped forward, laying a hand gently on Edward’s shoulders, gripping tighter when he didn’t flinch away, “Is my good friend Edward Nygma, formerly Nashton.”

 

“A friend of my son’s is a friend of mine, but… why have you brought him? What does he have to do with Grace?”

 

“Yes, what do you have to do with her?” Oswald asked Edward.

 

Before he could speak, Grace butted in, “Nothing! I have never seen this man before in my life. He must be deranged, unstable! Send him away! Oswald obviously brought him here to stir up trouble.”

 

“Oh, I do intend to stir up trouble,” Oswald agreed, “But you’re lying. Ed, answer my father’s question, please.”

 

“That is the woman who was supposed to be my mother.”

 

And chaos erupted.

 

Finally, over the squawking, half-assed protests of the other ex-Nashtons, Elijah managed to make himself heard, “What do you mean, ‘supposed to be’?”

 

“Why obviously he’s – “ Grace began, but Elijah held up his hand, “He has a voice. Let him answer for himself.”

 

“Thank you,” Edward replied, “I mean to say that I have her DNA, but as for _being_ my mother… well, she never deigned to fill that role. Has she spoken of the cruelties which we all suffered at his hands? But did she mention the way she raised Charles and Sasha to ignore me? To hate me? How she told everyone I was sick and unstable, too dumb to be worth their time, all because she didn’t want to associate with me? Wanted to lock me away and pretend I didn’t exist? How every time my father flew into one of his rages, they threw me out as the distraction? Or how they let me take the fall after they disappeared without my knowledge?”

 

He turned to Grace, “You could have just left you know. There was no reason to make that note.”

 

“Except, of course,” Oswald interjected, “For a bit of malicious fun? What did poor Eddie ever do to you?”

 

And like a mad woman, she snapped.

 

“Do? _Do?_ What did he do to me?! He ruined me! Joseph was _nice_ before he came out all wrong! I didn’t even want to have you, you know? But he made me go through with it, said it wasn’t right. _Oh,_ how he regretted that when it turned out _you_ weren’t right. I made him regret it! But then the drinking started, and the beatings. And I couldn’t very well _leave_. I still had hope they could fix you, back then. I took you to countless doctors and specialists, got so many diagnoses, I was going to treat them all, _make_ you be normal. But you were just _too_ messed up and it never worked and he never stopped and then I was pregnant again and thank _God_ Sasha turned out right. She almost saved us. But you were still there, with your unnaturalness and your ceaseless questions! I raised Charles and Sasha to be as proper as possible. I think we were all hoping that whatever was wrong with your brain was wrong with your body, too, and someday we’d all wake up and you’d be gone, _finally_. But you _just. wouldn’t. leave._ So eventually I took matters into my own hands. Sasha and Charles needed a home away from Joseph’s violence and away from your freakishness, and that’s what we got and you _won’t_ take it or the inheritance away from us, _is that clear?_ ”

 

Oswald’s grip on Edward’s shoulder tightened, hoping to ground him against any lapses in judgement. Before either he or Edward could react, though, another voice broke the silence.

 

“ _Oh, Grace…_ ”

 

Grace’s eyes widened, her rage draining away and leaving only panic behind.

 

“Elijah! I didn’t – I mean – “

 

“Grace? What have you done?”

 

“Nothing! I swear, it was all a manipulation. They tricked me into saying that. They just want your money!”

 

“No, Grace. I think you do,” Elijah said softly, sadly, “Do you love me at all, Grace? Or was it only ever about the money?”

 

Grace rolled her eyes, “What do you think?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Elijah continued, “I want to believe you’re a changed woman, a good woman. And I want to believe the same about you, Sasha. And you, Charles. I took you into my home. I loved you. But people who can do such a thing to another human being… And if there is a part of you that does regret it, that is good… that woman deserves better than a man who is still in love with someone else,” he glanced at Gertrud, who had been silent throughout the whole affair, watching.

 

“I’ll contact my lawyer in the morning. One way or another, I cannot continue this union.”

 

“You would kick us out on the street?” Grace exclaimed, “Do our years together mean nothing to you?”

 

“I fear that they mean nothing to _you_ ,” Elijah said, “But you are right. I wouldn’t kick you out. I am not – or at least I hope I am not – a cruel man. I will purchase a suitable accommodation for you and we can have you moved out within the week. Until then you may remain. I shall see you tomorrow. Goodnight,” he turned to Oswald, “Son? Could I speak with you in my study?”

 

“Of course,” Oswald nodded, and then glanced at Edward, “What about Ed?”

 

“I might speak with Ed, if he does not mind?” Gertrud spoke up for the first time.

 

“Ed?”

 

“I – “ he glanced at Gertrud, who was hardly intimidating, “I suppose.”

 

“Wonderful!” she smiled at him, standing with a flourish and offering him her hand. Like a gentleman, he took it, giving it a perfunctory kiss and bowing as he said, “Edward Nygma, ma’am.”

 

She gasped, “Oh, what a polite boy! Come, let us speak in the kitchen.”

 

And with that they disappeared down the hall. Oswald smiled after them before following his father up into the study.

 

~         ~         ~

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’re right,” Grace said calmly, stepping into the study, “We have made many mistakes, and if this is what drives us apart, then so be it. But I want to change, and I want to show you that I can change. We wanted to offer you something as a sign of our gratitude for everything you’ve done for us over the years. I know it’s a bit risky with your heart condition, but I also know how much you miss it, so we thought, perhaps, a glass of your favorite wine wouldn’t be amiss.”

 

Elijah smiled, “I’m glad you’re trying to change. It’s good. I hope you are successful in your quest to improve yourself. And I hope Sasha and Charles follow your example.”

 

“Of course,” she smiled graciously, “Children?”

 

Charles and Sasha stepped in cautiously.

 

“Charles? Sasha?” Grace frowned, “Where’s the wine? I thought I told you to bring it.”

 

“I know, Mother,” Charles began.

 

“But we can’t find it!”

 

“What? You lost the wine? But that’s – “ she glanced at Elijah, “Extremely expensive wine!”

 

“We know! We were gone for five minutes tops, and it was just… gone!”

 

“Oh, excuse me,” Edward stepped into the room behind them, “I didn’t realize you were all meeting here, I’ll come back later.”

 

“No, no, Edward,” Elijah addressed him, “What is it?”

 

“It’s just, did anybody lose a decanter of wine?” he pulled the crystal container from behind him. Oswald quickly covered his mouth with a hand to hide his smile at Edward’s dramatic antics. He knew there was some flair under that nervous exterior. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest that talking with his mother had helped draw it out of him.

 

“We were,” Charles said immediately, “There it is!”

 

“Indeed,” Grace stepped towards him, hand outstretched to take the decanter. Edward pulled it back slightly, “Who is this for?”

 

“Elijah, now hand it over,” she snapped, “We thought he deserved a glass after the stresses of this evening.”

 

“Fascinating,” Edward said, “Considering this is laced with an incredibly fast acting poison.”

 

“What?” Oswald gasped as Elijah stood up, “Grace? Is this true?”

 

“Of course not! He’s a compulsive liar! Besides, _how_ would he know?”

 

“I _am_ the top of my class in forensic science at Gotham U,” he replied with a fair amount of smugness, “I can identify 78 toxins without the use of lab equipment. But if my word isn’t enough…” he glanced at Oswald.

 

“You can always try it for yourself,” he finished Edward’s thought, “If the wine isn’t poisoned, surely you won’t mind taking a few sips?”

 

“I – I – but it’s for Elijah! I can’t drink part of his present! That wouldn’t be very proper,” she crossed her arms.

 

“Not at all,” Elijah assured, “I want to believe you are becoming a better person. Drink the wine.”

 

She glanced between her husband, her son, and her husband’s son before throwing her hands into the air and storming towards the door, “Charles! Sasha! We’re leaving _tonight_.”

 

“But – “

 

“Wait – “

 

“ _Now!_ ”

 

She stopped for half a second in front of Edward and hissed, “Are you ever going to stop taking up space where you aren’t wanted, freak?”

 

Charles and Sasha followed obediently, shooting deadly glares at Edward as they passed, repeating, “Yeah, _freak_ ,” and skirting him widely in case he decided to… what? Use his evil magic powers on them? Oswald scoffed, irritated at the slight to Ed despite his overwhelming pride and delight at a successful plot.

 

“I’m so sorry, Oswald. And you, Edward. Do you have a place to stay? You’re welcome to stay here with us. And Oswald, you and Gertrud are welcome to stay indefinitely. In fact, I’m rather hoping your mother would be willing to stay… well, forever.”

 

Oswald smiled, feeling true joy for once, “I think she’d be amenable.”

 

“Truly?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“I’m glad,” Elijah grinned and Oswald thought he could see something of a much younger man, a lovestruck man, shining through the weary exterior.

 

“And what about you, Edward? Will you stay, too?”

 

“I – I don’t know,” Edward glanced at Oswald, brows drawing together.

 

“Why don’t we speak privately,” Oswald suggested, “I know we have a… project to discuss.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Use my study,” Elijah waved his hand, “I’m going to bed anyways. Goodnight, both of you.”

 

“Goodnight, and thank you.”

 

“Think nothing of it, my boy.”

 

~         ~         ~

 

“The choice is yours,” Oswald finally says, “What would you prefer?”

 

“I – I like the idea of being around a friend… but I think the other plan is better. You have so much figured out already, why throw another wrench in it? And I’ve made it into my field, with a full ride. Besides, if I finish my studies and join the GCPD, that means you have a mole. I don’t want to stay there forever, of course, but I – I’m not ready to enter the world of crime quite yet.”

 

“That’s okay,” Oswald assures him, “I had to join for my mother. I didn’t have a real choice. You do. It’s okay not to want to put yourself at risk every hour of every day.”

 

“But we can still be friends? Secretly?”

 

“Of course we can, Ed.”

 

“Good. And, if it’s not too much to ask…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could our first friends’ outing be a visit to someone from my past?”

 

“I thought it already was,” Oswald smiled before turning serious, “But whom do you mean?”

 

“My father.”

 

Oswald’s jaw dropped, “You want to see your father?”

 

“Not exactly…” Edward glanced away, eyes flickering around the room without settling on anything too long.

 

“Then what?”

 

Edward’s eyes snapped back to Oswald’s as he practically pleaded, “I want to kill my father. With you.”

 

A swooping feeling filled Oswald’s stomach and he wondered if this was where the expression ‘falling for’ came from.


	6. Chapter 6

 

The last of the ripples dissipated, and the last trace of Fish Mooney was gone.

 

Oswald couldn’t stop grinning, couldn’t stop laughing… he’d done it. _He’d actually done it!_

 

He had cut down every big player in the game, rising to the top of the pile as the youngest and most powerful mob boss in Gotham’s history. At a mere twenty-eight, he had united the gangs under one thumb: his.

 

And then he realized what else this meant. He’d promised Edward: when he had more power than the GCPD, that was when Edward could reveal himself as Oswald’s right hand. As if summoned by his thoughts, Edward’s voice carried up to him from below.

 

“Oswald?”

 

Oswald hurried down to greet him, as quickly as he could on his injured leg.

 

“Ed! My friend!”

 

“You succeeded?”

 

“I’m the King of Gotham!” he exclaimed yet again, “I did it! We did it! Ed, love, we did it!”

 

He grabbed Edward’s hands before he knew what he was doing and drew him down into a kiss, high on his victory. Edward leaned in, eyes fluttering shut, before both of their brains kicked in and they leapt apart.

 

“Ed!”

 

“Oswald…”

 

“Ed, I – I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have, I should have asked, I’m – “

 

“Was that,” Edward began, eyebrows drawn back in the most adorable kicked puppy expression Oswald had ever seen, “Was that not an accident? Did you, Could you have meant that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Was that a joke? Or an accident? Or was it real?”

 

“I…” a bit of Oswald’s energy drained out in his sigh, “It was real. I’m sorry Ed, I overstepped, I – “

 

He was cut off as Edward pulled him into his arms, repeating the kiss with more force. Too soon he pulled back again, “You want me?”

 

“I – “ Oswald choked, “I – yes. Yes, I want you, Edward Nygma.”

 

“I’m yours,” Edward mumbled, tucking his head into Oswald’s shoulder, “Are you sure I’m not dreaming? I’ve imagined this so many times…”

 

“You have?” Oswald blinked, “You mean to say…”

 

“I want you too, yes.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Instead of further verbal responses, Oswald wrapped his arms around Edward, holding him securely, thumbs stroking up and down over Edward’s back and arm.

 

“So… what now?”

 

“Now I make my new position known, and then I get to show you off on my arm.”

 

“I can’t wait,” Edward whispered against his neck, curling into Oswald as closely as he could.

 

~         ~         ~

 

“Hey, have you seen Ed today?” Jim asked as he dropped into the chair across from Harvey. Harvey shrugged, “You think I go looking for him?”

 

Jim rolled his eyes, “I’m serious. Has Ed _ever_ been late, to your knowledge?”

 

“Now that you say that…” Harvey glanced around as if Ed would materialize at their sides now that they were thinking about him.

 

“Hellooo, GCPD,” a familiar nasally voice called, striding into the precinct. Jim groaned, burying his head in his hands. Couldn’t the Penguin leave them alone for _one_ goddamned day?

 

“How are you all today?”

 

“Not interested in your schtick,” Jim called back.

 

“Why, Jim, you wound me,” Oswald quipped, “But I’m actually here to make a legitimate complaint.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. I don’t think the GCPD is doing a good enough job keeping crime down on our streets. I think I’ll be taking that sentiment to the public, see whether they care so much when I offer them a safer Gotham… Ah yes, I’ll be needing a few interviews. Jot that down for me, will you, darling?”

 

_Darling?_ Jim glanced at Harvey who was making an equally disgusted face.

 

Behind Oswald, Ed finally arrived, long overcoat clinging to his thin frame and a few flakes of snow still sticking to his hat. He was holding a clipboard, like usual.

 

“Look who’s late to work,” Harvey called out, more interested in the scientist being late than whatever the Penguin’s latest scheme might be. Ed glanced up at him, and he flinched back involuntarily at the lively, maniacal glimmer in his eyes, “Not at all. I resigned from the GCPD last week. Yesterday was my last day.”

 

“Then what are you doing here?” Jim asked, confused. How come he hadn’t known about this?

 

“My new job,” Edward replied, striding forward until he was barely a foot away from the Penguin. And then he was wrapping his hands around the crook of Oswald’s elbow, scribbling down his reminder as fast as he could.

 

“You know, Ed tells me none of you were especially fond of him,” Oswald said casually, “I’m surprised. I’ve found Ed to be the _most_ efficient of workers. I can’t imagine someone better than you, my love.”

 

There it was again: _darling… my love…_

 

But Jim didn’t have any further time to question it as Oswald leaned over to claim Edward’s lips in full view of the entire precinct.

 

“Now, my dearest, I propose we leave this stifling cesspool and pick up some takeout for home.”

 

“A marvelous plan, Oswald.”

 

“I thank you all for your cooperation today,” Oswald called as they left, “And for giving me your best scientist. At least I’ll appreciate him the way he deserves.”

 

He glanced up to see Edward wiggling his eyebrows at him, “You can ‘appreciate’ me all you like. I’m yours, you know.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Oswald smiled at him, covering the hands on his elbow with one of his own, caressing the backs of them with his thumb before leaning up for another kiss, “Just like how you know I love you, darling. ‘Til the end of time.”

 

Edward smiled softly down at him, eyes shining, and he leaned into Oswald, laying his head against the other man’s.

 

In the doorway they could be seen – the Penguin and the ex-forensic scientist, arm in arm – and then the door shut and the sight was gone.

 

Behind them the entire precinct was still utterly silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are definitely some scenes (and character development) that I felt was rushed, but like I said, I mostly just wanted to post something.   
> Also that ending got a little cheesy, mostly because of how many people said they'd like to see a precinct kiss in the comments of "Not What You Deserve", so I thought I'd provide a nice fluffy moment at the end for you all.
> 
> And as for "Ed as Grace's son", I don't really believe it, but like I said it crossed my mind and I realized it was technically possible. I've been fascinated with writing something for it ever since. Thoughts?
> 
> Comments are, as always, appreciated :)
> 
> *(for those concerned: I know I said the bakery fic should be done by now, but it is _refusing_ to cooperate with me. I believe the next chapter is about half done right now, so more is coming, I just have no more promises for when. Hopefully soon, but like I said... it's a battle)


End file.
